Chasing Shadows
by wildsky
Summary: Tag for Houses of the Holy. Sam reflects and comes to a realization about Dean and their shared destiny. Please R & R!


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's _so_ not worth it.**

**A/N:** Short tag for Houses of the Holy. Hope you like it! The song "Chasing Shadows" is by Deep Purple.

**CHASING SHADOWS**

by wildsky

Sam Winchester watched his brother packing up out of the corner of his eye, Dean's last words reverberating through his mind like a gunshot.

_God's will_.

After everything they'd seen since taking this last job, those two words were the last thing he'd ever expected to come out of Dean's mouth. The brother who refused to believe in angels because they hadn't protected their mother - in spite of her promises - had actually considered the possibility that a higher power might have intervened, meting out justice in his stead.

It had certainly made Sam wonder. After all, where did holy water get its power if there was no such thing as God? There had to be _something_ out there, whether it was the Christians or any other religion that had the right idea. Maybe none of them did.

God, if such a being existed, also had to know that Dean already carried far too much on his shoulders without adding to the weight. He was already stooping under the burden of sins too numerous to count. Some were real, others perceived, more than a fair share assumed to ease the collective conscience of those he cared for.

In the very back of his mind, Sam sometimes wondered how long it would be before his brother buckled completely under the pressure. Would Dean let him in and let him help… or would he fall to his knees without a word, so determined to protect his family that he'd rather crawl on his belly in the dirt than risk bringing anyone else down with him?

That secret fear lived side-by-side with the knowledge of his dreaded destiny, keeping Sam awake at night. It was the only thing that frightened him more than the demon that had taken so much from both of them. He'd always had an older brother. Even after he'd left for Stanford, Sam had always known that Dean was out there somewhere, fighting the good fight, hunting the stuff of nightmares so that others could sleep soundly in their beds.

The idea that one day he might wake into a world without Dean was terrifying.

Sam had never known his mother. You couldn't really miss what you'd never had. He'd grieved for his father but he'd was slowly moving forward, one painful step at a time.

If he lost Dean, Sam knew he would never get over that.

Sam had wanted to know that there was some higher power watching over them, to believe that they weren't alone in this. He wanted some small sliver of hope that he could be saved, that he wouldn't become the monster their father had told Dean he may have to kill.

Most of all, he wanted to know that if Dean was forced to keep the promise Sam had wrung out of him, that something or someone, somewhere, would step up and save Dean.

The Powers That Be must know that Dean, of all people, deserved to be saved. He deserved to be happy, to love and be loved in return. It sounded ridiculously sentimental but it was the truth. He wanted Dean to see the Grand Canyon and visit Amsterdam, where the coffee shops didn't serve coffee. Hell, he wanted Dean to become the fireman he'd dreamed of being as a child.

When it was all over, he wanted Dean to have everything he'd been denied for so long. Sadly, Sam didn't need to be psychic to know that wasn't how it was likely to go down. Without anything or anyone to hold onto, Dean would sink like a stone. He'd gratefully drown and pray for cremation instead of burial.

All Sam wanted was this one small miracle.

The universe owed them that fucking much, didn't it?

His jaw set in frustration, Sam jammed two pairs of rolled-up jeans into his duffel. He wasn't sure what to believe in any more and he absolutely hated that feeling. Uncertainty had never sat well with him. He liked to know things. Research had always been his area of expertise for exactly that reason.

"You ready to go, Sammy?" Dean asked, glancing up from where he was zipping up his own bag.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replied with a sigh as he finished packing a few things. He watched Dean sling his bag over his shoulder and walk out of the door towards the Impala's trunk.

The irony of the role reversal between himself and Dean hadn't escaped him either. Sam had come into this wanting to believe only to end up doubting more than ever. Yet Dean, the world's biggest sceptic when it came to the idea of good forces existing to oppose the evil, had been left to wonder if he might be wrong.

Why? That one word had become the bane of his existence.

Why him? Why had he been 'chosen' like Ava and Andy? Why had the demon killed their mother and Jess? Why had John believed that Dean could possibly have the strength to kill his brother… and why had Dean caved and promised Sam that he'd do exactly that if the worst came to pass?

No-one should have to live like that, least of all Dean. For twenty-three years, he'd given everything he had and more. Wasn't that enough? Sam chewed the inside of his cheek as he lifted his bag, wincing inwardly at his own thoughts. He'd never known Dean to break a promise… not one he'd made to his baby brother, anyway.

Dean had always looked out for him, keeping him safe no matter what the cost was to himself.

Sam stopped in his tracks and stared through the door at his brother's oblivious back as something suddenly clicked, the priest's words flashing through his mind.

_Father, that's Michael, right?_

_That's right. The archangel Michael with the flaming sword. A fighter of demons… holy force against evil._

_So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everyone thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant_.

_Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful but, uh, yes, a lot of scripture paints angels as God's warriors_.

God's warriors. Fierce. Vigilant. Capable of being both loving and wrathful.

Sam smiled a little at his oblivious brother's back as walked out of the room and tossed his luggage into the car – beside him stood the only person he had ever known who fit the description like a glove.

He didn't have wings. He didn't even like to fly, preferring to drive a cherished '67 Chevy Impala instead. He wielded guns and spells, not a flaming sword. After all, that might have been a bit conspicuous, what with Dean being in the FBI database and everything. He sure as hell wasn't the Hallmark card type.

Sam stared at the very real, very visible man locking up the motel room, wondering if that was what he'd been missing all this time. One brother doomed to become the worst kind of evil, the other destined to drag his ass back to the light, kicking and screaming if need be?

Even if there wasn't some greater good out there in the cosmos watching out for Sam, maybe there was someone watching over Dean instead. Could that be enough?

Maybe – just _maybe_ – if angels did exist, they would save one of their own.

FIN


End file.
